


keepin' my fingers crossed (take the long way home)

by borzbois



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A little angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, One Shot, Oral Sex, just a little, word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 01:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17012850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borzbois/pseuds/borzbois
Summary: Jamie thinks about where he’s been, and where he’s going.





	keepin' my fingers crossed (take the long way home)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quietpastelcolours](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietpastelcolours/gifts).



> this is my birthday gift to mint! ily and have a happy happy birthday with your doggos and cows!!! mint asked for fluff so this is just a word vomit of my fluffiest symmrat headcanons.

Jamie thinks about where he’s been.

He’s glad that most of his memories of the Outback are just that — memories. He misses what he idealizes of home, of what Mako describes Australia as before the omnium blew. He misses the fleeting stretches of road with no one but them driving, leaving trails of dust in their wake. It was a feeling of peace, none of the residing worry that always wormed its way into his chest. He misses the way he would relish a steal or a particularly good find, adrenaline coursing in his veins.

But here is good, too.

Overwatch is good to him, despite all of his history before. They don’t mind the Junkers’ records, most of them coming from less than savory background themselves. They work with him with little judgement, welcoming him with open arms. They don’t mind that it takes him a long time to truly trust them, too used to the harsh, unforgiving social climate of Junkertown.

He knows that he’s changed, in more ways than one.

His skin holds a life to it that it never has before, his body finally allowing itself rest from fighting off the radiation. His body grows stronger, fat finally allowing itself to develop in small bits along his body. His hair grows back, fuller and shinier, soft like downy.

He begins to trust. He allows himself friendships aside from Mako, allows himself to be vulnerable with others. He enjoys playing video games with Hana and Genji, and he has barbeque contests with Jesse. It’s not so hard to be off guard anymore, he’s not so startled by others. For the first time in his life, he can sleep through the night without vivid dreams that startle him into waking.

Of course, Jamie knows that a big part of it is due to Satya.

She’s elegant in all the ways he can’t describe. He watches her move, hips swinging and legs weaving between one another, her face determined in a set of furrowed brows and sharp angles. She is stunning, and he watches as she breathes calmly, in and out. He can see her thinking, eyes bright and calculating as she scans the battlefield.

“Mission accomplished,” she murmurs with a smile and flourish.

With that same look that leaves him breathless, she pulls him in a for a kiss, her lips fire hot. She tastes like dust and sweat, any hint of her chapstick having dried up hours ago. Her hands curl around the back of his neck, grime and soot coated on him, but she smiles into the kiss anyhow. He allows himself a hand to her waist, to remind himself that she’s _real_ and she’s _here_.

Satya’s sensible, and she doesn’t usually allow them to have moments like this on missions. The momentary gesture of intimacy fills his heart with warmth, curling up inside of him and spreading tingles all the way to his toes and fingertips. She’s gentle and she breaks the kiss, her breath cool as his fans across his face. She touches her forehead to his, wordless, and they walk together to the dropship.

* * *

 

Their first date had been. Well, to put it gently, a disaster. 

He was so worried about impressing her — Miss Corporate Bigwig, he hadn’t wanted to mess a single thing up. He had gone above and beyond to plan a day out in the sun in Gibraltar, far enough away from prying eyes but close enough to be able to come back to base in a moment’s notice. He had planned a lovely afternoon at the local aquarium, a dinner at a restaurant where he couldn’t pronounce half of the menu, and walking along the beach at sunset.

Nothing went according to plan, of course.

The aquarium was closed that day for repairs. They had ended up spending the day on the pier in a carnival that had popped up for the weekend, something he adored but was probably far below her interests. The restaurant he had made reservations at had failed to mention to him a dress code requirement. Jamie, in a t-shirt and shorts did not fit this criteria, and neither did Satya in her casual sundress.

They sit under the pier, sharing a plate of street tacos before they walk along the beach. At least _that_ part couldn’t get messed up.

“I’m sorry, Sat,” he says, pouting. “I wanted today t’ be perfect for ya.”

She laughs, setting aside her plate on a rock next to her and gently touching his hand with hers. He blushes at the contact, unused to this form of affection from her. He had grown used to her gazes of longing, matching them with his own, or her accidental brushes on the dropship or in the workshop. But such open displays of affection were unheard of from her, and he felt a warmth in his chest at the idea of being trusted like that by her.

“It was, Jamie,” she reassures. “I had lots of fun at the carnival. And these tacos are much more authentic than anything that stuffy restaurant could have served us.”

“I was worried the fair would’a been too loud for ya.”

“Mm, it could have been. But today it wasn’t.”

“I know yer used t’ fancy eats, too.”

“I’ve had enough fancy French food to last my whole life, Jamie.”

He grumbles, still not convinced. He’s disappointed more than anything, that he worked so hard on something and almost all of it fell through. He was terrified of disappointing her, and more terrified of proving to himself that he wasn’t worthy of her.

“Jamie,” she says again, scooting closer to him. He can feel her warmth in the cool ocean breeze, wisps of her hair coming undone from the braid that sits on her shoulder. “All I wanted was a day with you, without worrying about anyone or anything else. It was more than sufficient.”

He blushes as she leans her head on his shoulder. He doesn’t know if he really _did_ successfully woo her, or if she’s just more comfortable being physical out of the prying eyes of their teammates. But he wraps a hesitant arm around her shoulder and leans into the touch.

It feels nice, he thinks. He closes his eyes, focusing on her idle caresses and the sound of the ocean waves.

“Y’promise that ya liked it?” he asks, after a while.

“I promise.” She pauses. “Now Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

She doesn’t have to tell him twice.

* * *

 

Jamie’s learned a lot with Satya.

They are in the workshop, typical for them when they’re hanging on base for the day. They’re at work, comfortable in each others’ quiet, something that had taken him a long time to come to terms with. His anxiety naturally compels him to fill the silence with meaningless words, gibberish and sounds to occupy his mind. But he sees that she’s so much more at ease the quiet, when her brain doesn’t have to process so much sound, sorting it out in her mind if it’s important. So he learned for her.

Satya’s been trying to design a detonator for Hana’s self-destruct mechanism, so it wasn’t so risky and precise for her to enable it. She’s having trouble, stumped by something missing in the connection. She struggles with building more complicated schematics from scratch, things with complicated fiddly bits, an area where he excels. He had been building all his tech from scrap he found lying around, after all.

She finally huffs and leans over.

“Can you help me?” she murmurs, her thick brows furrowed into a state of frustration, her lips pursed.

“Sure,” he says, kicking himself over to her on his stool. He loves his rolly wheels.  “What’cha stuck on?”

It feels odd to Jamie to be helping her learn something. She is remarkably intelligent, with lots of experiences in things that he flounders in. She is diplomatic, words wrapping eloquently around her tongue despite speaking a language not native to her,  and her eyes that smile with eager pleasantries. He knows that it takes a lot out of her, and after a meeting, she tends to flop into him and want hours of quiet and cuddles.

He takes pride in helping her understand better. She is so talented, and he can see how much she beats herself up when she gets stuck. She knows that she just operates a little differently, but despite all her strengths, she has trouble focusing on the weaknesses.

“I don’t understand how to connect the detonator to the remote module without a physical wire between the two,” she says, her fingers tensing and relaxing in time, physical evidence of her frustration. “But that would defeat the purpose of having a detonator at all. She would be too close to the blast range.”

Jamie hums. “Roight, there isn’t with whatcha got here.”

She looks at him, exasperated. “Are you saying I built this with the wrong part entirely? I need to start over?”

“No, not at all, love,” he says, pulling himself closer to her.

He can see Satya shutting down already, close to a breakdown. He pulls her back flush against his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin. He breathes deep, letting her feel him and relax her weight into him. He holds her, resisting his natural urge to pet at her hair or tap his foot, allowing her to compose herself again. He watches her close her eyes, long lashes brushing against her cheeks, breathing in time with him.

“Okay,” she murmurs after a while. “I’m alright now.”

“Roight,” he says quietly, pulling himself back to the table. “Y’can make another module the way y’want, sure. But this works, too. All ya gotta do is add a timer thingo,  so she can flip it on then _fly it in_ and kaboom! She’s safe ‘cause she jumped out after activatin’ it.”

Satya hums, her head slowly turning, as if going over the scenarios in her mind. She’s still disappointed that she didn’t make what she set out to, he can tell. She gets like that. But she knows that it works, and it’ll still be improvement for Hana.

“Thank you, Jamie,” she says, smiling at him and resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad I had you here.”

“No prob, love,” he says, setting a kiss to her temple. “‘S what ‘m here for.”

“You read me really well,” she says, quietly. “I’m thankful for that. I’ve never had anyone who’s cared enough to calm me the way you do. Thank you.”

That’s the day Jamie falls in love with her.

* * *

 

He doesn’t realize it until much later. 

They had been on Talon’s tail for months now, and they knew it. King’s Row isn't a particularly great place for a fire fight with Talon, but it is what it is. There were too many corridors and secret entryways, too many ways for things to go wrong and not a lot of ways to prepare.

But nothing could have prepared him for the way that she screamed.

Jamie hadn’t noticed Widowmaker perched atop the cathedral, but he knew the crack of her rifle instinctually. He hears Satya gasp next to him, before she lets out a piercing scream. He turns to her, his brain processing in slow motion. Her hands shake, as they clutch at her waist, blood seeping through her dress, staining the vibrant fabric a dark black in the dimness of the streetlights.

He curses, picking her up and _running_ , even as he hears Widowmaker fire shots off at his retreating form. He stows them in a dark alleyway, concealed by layers and layers of brick.

“M-Mercy,” he stutters into the comm, frantically pressing at Satya’s abdomen to stop the bleeding. “Sym’s hurt, ya gotta come quick!”

Satya whimpers under him, and it’s nothing like he’s heard from her before. She gasps under him, hands clutching to squeeze at his biceps, but it’s not in pleasure like he is so used to.

“Make it stop,” she cries, her voice weak, tears curling from the corners of her eyes and falling into her hair. He wants to cradle her head against the hard and unforgiving brick beneath her, but he is more worried about the blood.

God, there is so much blood. He remembers his amputations vividly, and he remembers the searing pain and the blood.

But it’s different, he supposes. It’s her.

“Y’got this,” he murmurs. He takes out a pocket knife and cuts off the end of her dress and fashions it like gauze against the wound. It doesn’t take long for that to bleed through, too. “Yer gonna be okay, love. Mercy’ll be here soon. She’ll get ya fixed right up.”

It feels like it takes hours for Angela to arrive, with the way Satya keeps crying, gasping and shuddering. He talks her through the pain as best he can, the way he wishes he had been so many years ago. Once Mercy has them in the dropship, and she’s hooked Satya up to all the monitors and things that keep her _safe_ , he can breathe.

He walks to the storage area for a moment and lets out a harsh sob. It’s loud here, close to the engine and the roar that it produces, so he feels safe knowing that no one can hear him cry. That no one can listen to his vulnerability, his weakness.

Her blood still coats his hands, dried and flaking off now, but it’s there. The smell of it on him as he wipes his eyes is nauseating. His heart hurts in his chest when he thinks of the way that she cried and whimpered in his arms.

He almost sends himself into a panic attack, thinking about what would have happened if Angela hadn’t been there. He’s seen a lot of people die back at home, with no medical care and nothing clean, it was just the way things were. He didn't think twice about it then. 

But he can’t think about watching Satya die in his arms, bloodied and sick, like the people back home.

She’s awake when Jamie walks back into the makeshift operating room, though just barely. It hadn’t taken Angela much to fix her up, since the bullet thankfully passed through a relatively non-fatal area. No damage to any internal organs, she had said. All she had to do was control the bleeding. Easy peasy.

Satya’s hand grips his own weakly when he sits down next to her. Her smile is weary, her face paler than he’s ever seen under the fluorescents. She hums pleasantly, taking a deep breath of his scent in.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” she says, her throat dry and raspy.

“Yeah,” he gulps, chest heavy with the weight of his realization. ”Me neither.” 

* * *

 

Physical intimacy is not something that comes naturally to Jamie. 

His parents died when he was young, and he remembers vaguely what it was like to be loved and comforted by them. Held, kissed, hugged. But that was a long time ago, and the radiation and age had a way of making memories like that hazy in his mind like a thick fog. Back in Oz, he was too worried about staying alive to worry about physical contact.

He was awkward with Satya when their relationship first started. He didn’t really know what to do other than pure instincts, too consumed in his desire for her to feel worried or self-conscious. He trusted her implicitly, and he knew that she would take care of him.

He still does.

Her lips are hot on his, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Her nails bite into his back, smooth legs draped over the back of his own. She lets out a soft moan that vibrates through him all the way to his core.

He breaks away to lather open-mouthed kisses along her neck, and she cranes up to allow him to do his work. He trails down, dipping into the curve of her collarbone, her belly button, the gentle slopes of her hips.

“Jamie,” she sighs, eyes fluttering, hair splayed out on the bed behind her.

Even when she’s uninhibited, allowing herself to float pleasurably in his arms, she still looks elegant. Every movement of her body looks like it belongs in a museum, immortalized in marble like a goddess. Every whimper and moan sounds like the sweetest song, and he is absolutely intoxicated by her.

She hitches a breath when he swipes wide at her lips, parting her open, her brows furrowing in an open-mouthed face of pleasure. Her heels dig into his back as he continues, her legs feeling like silk against his rough skin. He props himself up with one arm and uses the other to press a finger in her, allowing himself to revel in the way she tastes.

She lets out a high pitched moan, curling her fingers into his hair as he lathes her clit, swirling the tip of his tongue just the way she likes. He loves watching her come unraveled beneath him. The way she groans his name makes him feel like nothing else.

When she comes, it’s beautiful. She shivers and quakes underneath him, toes curled tight. Her thighs shake and press him tight between them, her back arching.

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” she says over and over, hands tangled in the sheets. She murmurs something in Telugu, that he doesn’t know, but he can guess.

Satya pulls him up to lay on her chest, once the waves of aftershocks have worked their way through. They lay there together, breathing hard in otherwise quiet room. He can feel her heartbeat thudding against her ribs, slowing just a bit with every passing moment. She strokes his hair with one hand, the other slung around his shoulder, resting on his back. They’re glued together by sweat and heat, and he revels in her warmth.

The first time she held him like this, he cried. He hadn’t known what to do, so overwhelmed by the emotions of being so loved and cared for. He couldn’t remember being held like this, not really. She hadn’t said a word, just kept holding him, stroking his hair and murmuring affirmations in his ear.

“I love you,” he says, propping his head up on one hand, stroking the side of her face gently.

“I love you too,” she murmurs back, still breathless and floating in her post-orgasm haze.

She looks ephemeral, glowing in the dim candlelight. He feels like even though he’s spent countless hours memorizing every part of her body, devoting each of her features to his memory, every time he looks at her it’s like the first. He sees the gentleness in her eyes when she looks at him, feels the ease that she talks to him. He feels so incredibly lucky that out of all people, she chose _him_. That they fit together like a puzzle.

“Marry me, Satya?”

“I’d love nothing more, Jamie.”

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to all my wonderful friends on the symmrat discord for all our conversations about headcanons.


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